Chương 77: Chapter 77
The storm came without warning, fierce enough to freeze the bones. Ragnar stood by the window, staring out at the empty, snow-filled expanse. The wind howled, a bitter cry that made the whole house creak.
A crack of thunder rumbled in the distance, but it wasn't like the storms he knew. It had a life to it, like it was alive, furious and cold, stretching on for eternity.
Then he heard it. A sound that didn't belong to the storm.
A click.
The sharp, metallic sound echoed through the desolate landscape, louder than any storm could make. Ragnar's heart skipped a beat. He had seen what it had done to the town. There had been no warning. The first time it appeared, it was just a flash of light and ice. Then screams. The town had been wiped out in a matter of hours. Nothing left but frozen corpses, their faces twisted in terror.
He didn't know what it was. The locals called it a spirit, a demon, but Ragnar had his doubts. Nothing felt supernatural about it. It felt...wrong. Like it shouldn't exist at all. And it didn't just kill. It tortured. It froze and burned, leaving nothing behind except ruin.
Ragnar reached for his rifle, a futile gesture. He didn't know why he bothered. He had seen enough to know that no weapon could stop it. The town had tried. Everyone had tried. But nothing could stand against it.
The creature had many forms. It was a giant mantis, but not the kind found in nature. This one was made of ice and flames, a twisted reflection of some terrible god. Its limbs were impossibly long, tipped with sharp claws that cut through steel and bone alike.
Its body shifted between translucent ice and flickering flame, creating a ghostly contrast that made it all the more horrifying. Ragnar had watched it tear through the town, a mass of icy destruction that burned everything it touched. But it didn't just kill quickly. No. It took its time. It enjoyed the suffering.
Another click. Closer this time.
Ragnar stepped back from the window, heart pounding. The creature wasn't far. He grabbed his coat, pulled it on quickly, and ran for the door. He needed to get out of the house, out of the town. The creature wasn't something you could outrun, but maybe he could hide. Maybe there was a chance.
He ran through the snow, barely able to see a few feet in front of him. The storm was getting worse. The wind picked up, stinging his skin, tearing at his clothes. It wasn't long before he lost his bearings, his feet dragging in the snow. His breath came in sharp bursts, each exhale freezing in the air.
And then he heard it.
A screech, piercing and high, like the wail of something long dead. His blood ran cold.
It was close.
He stumbled forward, trying to move faster, but his legs were frozen, his body too tired to run any longer. The snow crunched beneath his boots, but the sound was swallowed by the wind. He had no idea where he was anymore, the town a distant memory. The storm was all that remained.
Another screech. This time, it was followed by the sound of something scraping along the ice.
Ragnar froze, eyes wide, breath catching in his throat. It was here. It was close enough for him to feel its presence. And he knew it wouldn't stop until he was gone, too. The creature never stopped. Once it found something, it hunted it until there was nothing left.
A burst of heat shot through the cold. Flames rippled in the distance, casting an eerie glow over the white landscape. He turned, heart hammering in his chest, but there was nothing there. Just the flickering firelight. Then, the ice crackled.
It moved toward him, faster than he could run, its clicking legs striking the ground with brutal force. Each movement was deliberate, like it was savoring the chase. Ragnar didn't know how to fight it.
He had tried to warn people, tried to tell them there was no point, but they wouldn't listen. They thought they could defeat it. They thought they could outrun it.
The creature stepped into view, its massive form appearing from the swirling storm. It was tall, almost towering, its body twisted and malformed. Ice encased most of its legs, but the fire that ran through its veins burned just as hot as the flames in Ragnar's chest.
The flames flickered around its body, but it didn't burn. No, it froze. And it was cold. So cold.
Ragnar's heart skipped another beat as it clicked again. It was closer now, just a few feet away. He raised his rifle, but his hands shook. He fired anyway, the loud crack of the gun breaking through the silence of the storm.
The shot missed.
The creature's head tilted slightly, as if it had never heard anything so absurd. Then it moved, faster than he could react. One of its claws lashed out, slamming into his chest. He felt the sharp sting as ice and fire met flesh, ripping through his ribs. He gasped, choking on the blood that filled his mouth.
But it wasn't over.
The creature didn't kill him. No. It wanted him to suffer.
It leaned down, its cold breath searing through his skin, and Ragnar could feel the frost creeping over him. His vision blurred, but it didn't matter. He could see the creature's eyes now, glowing like molten fire, watching him as he froze from the inside out.
The pain in his chest was nothing compared to the ache of the cold that sank into his bones. It didn't stop. It never stopped. The flames wrapped around his body, but they didn't burn. They froze. Slowly, painfully.
And as Ragnar gasped for air, struggling against the icy grip that held him, he realized he would die like everyone else. Nothing left but a frozen corpse to serve as a warning. The creature's fire and ice had taken everything.
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